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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24443716">Past Imperfect</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mogseltof/pseuds/Mogseltof'>Mogseltof</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Ratty Love Fest 2020 [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Transformers - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Human AU, Humanformers, Introspection, Ladyformers, Projection, Reflection, Trans Character, personal history</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 09:41:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>887</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24443716</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mogseltof/pseuds/Mogseltof</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Ratchet Week over on twitter. Have some fics. </p><p>Day 3: Confidence/Regret </p><p>Rodimus is easily one of the most irritating people Ratchet has ever known. If only that made her easy to dismiss.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ratchet &amp; Rodimus | Rodimus Prime</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Ratty Love Fest 2020 [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1765345</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Past Imperfect</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Rodimus is heavy when she’s sleeping. Ratchet supposes she probably should have noticed that at some point over the years, but to be honest, even when she’s seen Rodimus in bed she’s rarely asleep. Ultra Magnus is resigned to Rodimus being “a hundred miles a minute”, and Drift mostly complains that no human being is made to run on spite and energy drink alone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rodimus’ own take on it is that she’s like one of those fish, you know, the ones that die if they stop moving?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yeah, Ratchet can see that. Rodimus actually manages to look </span>
  <em>
    <span>older</span>
  </em>
  <span> when she’s sleeping; her face is still, she’s not talking loudly, there’s no brash movements or twitching, or jokes, or indignant rage. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If you’d asked Ratchet twenty years ago—god it’s been twenty years—she’d have said that Rodimus would grow out of her very teenage confidence that the world was wrong and someone had to fix it, that blustery Hot Rod front. But here she is, just as loud, just as confident—and actually working on fixing the parts of the world that she can. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rodimus murmurs in her sleep, shifting where her head is resting in Ratchet’s lap. It’s wrong to be this sentimental about a grown ass woman who’s made it perfectly clear how she feels about sentimentality, but fuck it, Rodimus isn’t the boss of her no matter how she acts. Ratchet reaches over and pulls the blanket off the back of the couch, tucking it awkwardly around Rodimus’ shoulders. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rodimus settles again, and Ratchet watches her face pensively. Ultra Magnus had accused her of being too similar to Rodimus for either of their own good, which was ridiculous on the surface, but she supposes she might see what he was getting at. The whole-hearted way Rodimus has thrown herself into running her new big project, at the cost of her own health and the things she’s loved, the constant pushing and pushing and pushing, the absolute indignant rage at the things the system have done to the people she considers hers—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christ, of all the people for her to take after why did it have to be Ratchet? Ultra Magnus’ admonishments and Drift’s concern for Rodimus echo through her past, mirroring words from the doctors and nurses Ratchet’s worked with over the years, back when she was fresh out of school, back when she was bitter and angry, back when she was falling asleep in her shitty office at that clinic she kept going by the skin of her teeth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rodimus makes fun of her for complaining about the parasites that are in charge of who gets adequate healthcare, mocks her when she starts bitching about hospital hierarchies, she’s aggravating, petty, mean, she plays dirty, and she cares so much it makes Ratchet’s heart ache just to watch her. Ratchet remembers just how much it hurts to care like that. To put all of your heart into trying to change something like that. How painful it is to pick yourself up after the tension finally snaps and you have to put yourself back together and grit your teeth and listen to people tell you that it was a “nice try”.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rodimus stirs again, yawning, and this time she wakes all the way up, rubbing at her face and squinting up at Ratchet. “What’re you staring at?” she mutters thickly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ratchet opens her mouth to tell her nothing, that she’s got something on her face, that if she’s tired enough to fall asleep on Ratchet’s lap she clearly needs a new mattress, but what comes out instead is: “You know you’re not wasting yourself, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rodimus stares at her, consternated. “What?” she says, voice still sleep addled, and then, “Am I still dreaming?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ratchet raises an eyebrow. “If you’re dreaming of me you might have more issues than I previously thought.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rodimus swats at her midsection and sits up, yawning. “Yeah, whatever,” she says, grinning slightly, and suddenly she’s young again, every line in her face in motion as she swings herself upright, stretching her arms over her head. “No one’s wasting anything here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ratchet snorts, raking a hand through her hair before she adjusts her legs, wincing at the rush of blood flowing back into her thighs. “Mhm.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rodimus is humming softly as she picks up her jacket and checks her phone, eyebrows bouncing at the time displayed, and she trails off with a low whistle. “Well, except maybe time, I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely</span>
  </em>
  <span> late, thank god it’s only for Mags and not work or the studio or something, Christ, why didn’t you wake me up? Ratchet?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ratchet realises she’s staring and shakes her head, rubbing at the bridge of her nose. “You looked like you needed it. Besides, you said it yourself, it’s only Magnus. He understands you’ve got a lot on your plate right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“More like lectures me on it,” complains Rodimus, crinkling her nose. She comes back around and leans in, kissing Ratchet on the cheek. “Later, old lady.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s already away, striding for the door, really is a hundred miles a minute, so Ratchet pitches her volume up when she responds. “You’re the same age as I was when I met you, you little asshole!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rodimus’ laughter floats back after her, the door bouncing shut, and Ratchet smiles slightly, despite herself. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Lol, had to get my humanformers nonsense in here somewhere. I have Feelings about the tiny similarities in these characters (and how much they'd both detest it). Don't @me. Or do. I don't mind :D</p></blockquote></div></div>
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